Snips and Snails and Puppy-Dogs' Tails
by L. E. Wigman
Summary: That's what little boys are made of... PBA winner 2019. Best Long Comedy, SILVER
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hogan's Heroes, nor do I profit from this story. All rights belong to their owners and no infringement is intended.**

 **Cover picture courtesy of Katbybee's amazingly talented daughter, Hilary. My thanks to her and her mother, who served as go-between** **;)**

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The rains of March and early April had given way to bright sunshine and warm temperatures. Overall morale in camp was not just up, but the highest it had been since autumn of last year. The men organized baseball games and soccer matches daily, with Newkirk making a killing in the betting pool. An almost lazy attitude prevailed among the guards as happy, content prisoners gave them no trouble. Hogan and crew were in a slower period, with missions happening only once or twice a week.

LeBeau had received permission from Klink - through Hogan, of course - to plant vegetable gardens in exchange for a detail of men to work on the Commandant's flower bed. For the men, the opportunity to be out in the sunshine far outweighed their dislike of work details. So, two decently-sized details emerged with LeBeau leading the flowerbeds and Baker leading the vegetable gardens.

Hogan sat on the bench outside of their barracks sipping on a cup of coffee, soaking in the sun, and watching his boys play ball. It was baseball today and the Americans had a two-run lead at the bottom of the ninth; but the Europeans had two walks and they'd saved their best hitter for last.

Carter was on the mound with Olsen catching. Olsen gave a signal and Carter shook his head ever so slightly. Olsen rolled his eyes and gave a second signal. Carter grinned, eagerly nodded, and began his wind-up which resulted in a tremendous screwball.

McKern, an RAF sergeant, stepped into the pitch. A loud crack from the bat sent the ball sailing over Carter's head. Garlotti, who was playing left field, backpedaled while McKern took off for first base. Cheers erupted from the Europeans as their first runner scored.

Garlotti, paying more attention to the ball than where he was going, stumbled into the vegetable garden. He tripped over Baker, falling into the freshly-turned soil and losing track of the baseball in the process.

"The onions!" LeBeau squawked from across the yard. Baker tried to push Garlotti off of the spring onions and out of the garden, while the New Jerseyan searched frantically for the ball.

Newkirk leaped to his feet and began screaming with visions of losing his entire cigarette stash filling his mind. "Get the ruddy ball!"

The Europeans tied the score with their second runner, as Garlotti finally spotted the leather-wrapped sphere on the other side of the garden. He mumbled a quick apology to Baker as he plowed through the rest of the turned soil. McKern rounded third just as he snatched up the ball and threw it as hard as he could to the third baseman.

Kinch - the aforementioned third baseman - caught the ball with ease, spun and lobbed it into the waiting hands of Olsen. He slammed his gloved hand down on McKern's thigh as the runner slid into home base. McKern, Olsen, and both teams waited anxiously for the umpire to make his call.

"Safe!"

The Europeans started to cheer as they huddled together.

"Safe?!" Olsen gaped, "what do you mean safe?! He was so far out that he was back in his hometown!"

Schultz frowned and shook his head, "no, no, no. He was safe. I am the umpire. He is safe."

"Never met anyone as blind as you are, Schultzie," Newkirk hollered, testily, from his 'office' beside the delousing station. He'd set up a small table with a ledger and the box containing the barracks' cigarettes. Newkirk, presuming the Americans' greater ability at their own sport, had made the mistake of laying odds - specifically, four to one odds. A small crowd had begun to form a line, eager to settle their bets.

Schultz backed up as the teams began to bicker. "All right, fellas," Hogan called. He set down his cup and hurried over before a brawl could break out. "Schultz is right. You all agreed to have him as umpire, so his ruling stands."

The American team reluctantly backed off, still grumbling, while the Europeans quietly celebrated their first baseball victory of the year. McKern reached a hand out to Olsen, saying, "Well played, laddie." His strong, Scottish accent and big smile took away some of Olsen's ill feelings as he added, "between you and me, I'm not so sure about the hun's ruling, either."

Olsen shook his hand and joined in on his hearty laughter. Both men sobered when LeBeau came over. The little Frenchman lit into poor Garlotti, "you stupid Americans with your stupid games. Hit the ball away then run around like dogs chasing tails." He gestured, frantically at the wrecked garden which Baker and his detail were trying to salvage. "You have completely ruined all of our hard work."

"Gee, I'm sorry, LeBeau..." Garlotti muttered, shifting from foot to foot. He rubbed the back of his neck and was beginning to wonder if he was in physical threat from the little man's ire.

"Sorry?!" LeBeau squawked. His eyes bulged and it was clear that he wasn't having any of it. "'Sorry' does not fix the garden. 'Sorry' doesn't put carrots, peas, and beans in my cookpot. You will learn what 'sorry' means when you don't have vegetables with your dinner."

Hogan put his hand on LeBeau's shoulder and said, "take it easy. I'm sure the fellas will help straighten and re-plant the rows..." Carter cut him off by tapping the colonel's arm and pointing, discreetly, toward the gate.

A German staff car was stopped and waiting for the guards to allow passage. The Heroes recognized it immediately as General Burkhalter's car.

"I wonder what he wants," Kinch murmured.

"Don't know, but whatever it is, I..." Hogan started to reply, before catching Schultz hovering close by them, obviously eavesdropping. "What do _you_ think he wants, Schultz?"

Catching on quickly, Kinch smiled, "Yeah, Schultz, you're always hanging around the Commandant. Did he tell you anything?"

Schultz backed away; too many times the Heroes had pumped him for information. He was beginning to question just whose side he was on. "I heard nothing, I saw nothing, and I know nothing," he said quickly. "Please, Colonel Hogan, don't ask me."

"All right, Schultz, I guess we'll all have to live without knowing," Hogan sighed, "come on, guys, let's get a cup of coffee." He walked back to the barracks. As he reached the door, he yelled, "Newkirk, com'on!"

Newkirk closed up the shoe box, much to the complaint of several prisoners who hadn't received their pay out, and ran across the yard. He bumped Langenscheidt's shoulder and tipped his head in a quick apology before heading into the barracks.

Langenscheidt frowned as he watched the barracks door close, "Sergeant, doesn't the Englander despise coffee?" When Schultz nodded, he continued, "then isn't that suspicious behavior that requires investigation?"

Schultz pursed his lips in thought. "Karl," he began slowly, "when you are an old sergeant like me, you will understand that, sometimes, it is better for everyone concerned to not see anything."

Langenscheidt nodded, his brows furrowed with confusion. He didn't think his sergeant was quite right about that, but before he had a chance to protest, Schultz had gone. With a shrug, Langenscheidt continued on to the Mess, deciding that whatever was going on with the Colonel and his men would have to wait for a more conscientious guard.

 _H~H_

Inside the barracks, the men were gathered around the table in Hogan's office.

"I'm sorry, sir," Kinch apologized again as he fiddled with the coffee pot. It was the fourth time this month that the device hadn't come on. The wire had a short and needed to be replaced, but wire was in short supply. For now, the best they could do was jiggle it until the break connected and hold it steady.

"Well," Carter said cheerily, he was kneeling on the floor at Kinch's feet, helping to jiggle the length of wire, "at least we'll miss all of Klink's boot-licking."

Newkirk snorted from his spot on the bottom bunk. He shifted the pillow down lower to support his back and muttered, "thank heaven for small favors."

Hogan called LeBeau over to send him on 'cleaning duty' in Helga's office, when the coffee pot crackled to life. Kinch and Carter simultaneously froze.

"… _and that is why it must be kept in the safe."_ Burkhalter's loud, nasally voice said. Hogan stepped closer to the table and Newkirk sat up, leaning forward to hear.

" _Rest assured, General, all will be taken care of,"_ Klink's voice was heard over the scraping of chairs against the wooden floor. " _Schultz can oversee moving the safe to your quarters and Langenscheidt will take good care of the Fuehrer's present..."_

" _The Fuehrer's present will also remain in my room,"_ Burkhalter cut off his underling. " _I wouldn't trust you with it if you were the last Aryan on earth."_

They half-heard something that sounded like a 'yes, herr general' and then a door opened.

" _I'm worn from my journey,"_ Burkhalter's voice started to fade as he got further from the bug. " _I'll just have dinner in my room."_

" _Of course, General,"_ Klink agreed. " _I'll see to your driver and make arrangements for your dinner to be sent in."_

Hogan motioned for Kinch to pull the plug. "Sounds important," he said to no one in particular. "Whatever it is, we'll need pictures."

Newkirk stood and stretched, "guess I'm opening a safe tonight."

"We don't even know what we're looking for," LeBeau said, nudging him in the ribs.

Newkirk blew on his fingernails and rubbed them against his lapel, "I'll have you know that I keep a running account of every item in that safe. Trust me, I'll know what's new."

Before the two could devolve into their usual squabbling, Hogan cleared his throat, "After lights-out, Newkirk and Carter are going in."

"I don't need any help, guv," Newkirk started to complain. "I'll be in an' out before anyone knows I was there."

Hogan glanced at his watch, mentally counting the hours. "Carter takes better photographs than you do; he goes. Carter, go get your camera ready."

Carter nodded and left the room. Newkirk waited until he was certain the Yank was out of ear shot before he continued making his case, "come on, Colonel. Andrew has many talents… need a bridge blown or some sorta chemical concoction and he's your man… but being quiet or stealthy isn't exactly his strong suit."

"Which is why LeBeau is going to slip something into the General's soup," Hogan said simply. He headed into the common room which with most of the men outside enjoying the spring weather, was almost empty.

LeBeau nodded solemnly, "I shall have to put in extra garlic to cover up the taste of the arsenic..."

"I prefer he wakes up in the morning."

" **À chacun son goût** ," LeBeau muttered, shaking his head. He made his way out of the barracks and right into Schultz, who began to tick off the General's requests for dinner as they walked to the Kommandant's kitchen.

 _H~H_

Burkhalter forced himself to put the last bite of bienenstich into his mouth. He was feeling very full and rather sleepy, but the rich cake was calling out to him. Oh, how these French could bake! To his way of thinking, if the French had stuck to baking instead of constantly fighting their superior neighbours then they'd have been much better off. He swallowed and reached for the glass of warm milk. He took a sip and grimaced. He hated goat's milk and the thought of drinking the whole glass was especially unappealing after that large dinner. He stood with a yawn, grabbed the empty bowl, and shuffled into the bedroom. He set the bowl down beside the small box in the corner and poured half the glass into it.

"All right, little dog," he murmured. He scooped a tiny, shepherd puppy from the box and placed it in front of the bowl. "Eat, eat."

The puppy didn't need much urging, being trapped in a car without food or water the entire day had been trying for the poor thing. Burkhalter allowed the slightest hint of a smile before sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulled his boots off and lay them beside his bed, fighting another enormous yawn.

 _I must be getting old,_ he thought, scratching the back of his head. _Trips like this used to be enjoyable… well, except for seeing my inept commandants._ He stretched across the bed and flipped the round light switch. _Now, these little trips are just tiring._ He lay stretched across the bed and his eyelids began to flutter closed. He should take off his pants and crawl under the covers, but he was just too tired. A little nap wouldn't hurt…

The puppy licked the edge of the plate and it slid forward. He stepped closer and continued licking until he finished the milk. He licked his chops, whined a little bit, and began to sniff around until he smelled something familiar. He promptly squatted and relieved himself on the tall, black that business taken care of, he began to explore. There wasn't much to see in this place and he probably would have settled down to sleep, if he hadn't spotted the door.

In his drowsy state, Burkhalter had left the door ajar and it took the puppy little effort to squeeze his teeny frame through. This room was still fully lit and he bounded in. With his nose to the ground and tail wagging furiously, he ran through the room. Breathing in all of the intoxicatingly new and different smells.

While the pup was under the couch investigating a newly discovered mouse hole, the window slid open and a man, dressed in blue, climbed in. He hurried over to the door and flipped the switch, plunging the room into darkness. The guards would think that Burkhalter had gone to bed and not disturb him, hopefully. A soft thump caused him to turn back to the window.

"Easy, Andrew," he hissed.

"Sorry," Carter mumbled, apologetically. He turned the flashlight on and did a quick inspection of the camera he'd dropped. "It's okay, nothing's broken."

Newkirk went over to the bedroom door and finished opening it the rest of the way. His eyes, while not completely adjusted to the darkness, could make out Burkhalter's portly form. From the deafening snores, it was obvious that he was fast asleep. "Come on," he whispered to Carter, who was at his heels. Carter switched on the flashlight, taking care not to disturb the General, and hurried to the safe sitting beside Klink's dresser.

"We could've done it from the tunnel," Carter joked. "Just pop up and grab the stuff."

Newkirk wasn't really listening; he was too focused on the safe. He crouched down and had Carter shine the light directly on the dial. He pressed his ear to the cool metal and began to turn the knob, listening carefully for the clicks of tumblers dropping into place.

Suddenly, Carter switched the flashlight off and whispered, "did you hear that?"

Newkirk paused and listened intently, but all he could hear was Burkhalter's steady snoring.

"Just your imagination," he whispered back. Grabbing Carter's hand, he put the light back on the dial. A moment later and he was sliding the safe door open. He dug through the contents as quickly as he could. Skipping over Klink's various personal effects, last month's Luftwaffe code book, and several boring camp ledgers, he discovered a smooth, manila envelope. He flipped it over an unwound the string keeping it closed. He pulled out a small stack of typed papers and skimmed through the first page. "Jackpot," he murmured, handing the papers to Carter.

Carter gave Newkirk the flashlight and lay the papers on the floor. He focused the camera and clicked once, spun the wheel, and snapped another. While this used up more film; on the off chance that one of the photographs didn't turn out right, he always had a back up. It took them about ten minutes to photograph every page, put them back in their proper order, and replace the envelope. Newkirk shut the safe and set the dial. He and Carter eased through the door and over to the window, before Carter came to a halt.

"There it is again," he hissed.

Newkirk listened, hearing the faint sounds of scratching or clicking. He was about to dismiss Carter's concern as just a mouse, when he heard something else… muffled voices. Frowning, he slid the curtain aside and peeked out the window. While they were inside, it had begun to rain and Privates Schmidt and Huber had decided to take their smoke break under the eaves.

"Sorry, Andrew," Newkirk said ruefully. "Guess it wasn't your imagination."

"That wasn't what I heard..."

Newkirk pressed him back into the bedroom, "come on, we'll have to use the tunnel."

"But the Colonel said," Carter protested as Newkirk started to push the dresser away from the tunnel opening.

"Burkhalter's still fast asleep," Newkirk gestured to the snoring lump on the bed. He climbed down the ladder. "It'll be alright."

Carter watched his friend disappear and started to follow when he heard that noise again. He took a chance and turned the flashlight on, shining it across the floor. He spotted a tiny, black and tan puppy sitting by the door. He grinned and made a clicking noise with his tongue. The puppy didn't hesitate a second before bounding forward. Carter held his fingers out and the puppy sniffed them for a moment. He gently petted the top of his head and the puppy began to wiggle in delight. Carter indulged the playful creature even further by scratching behind both ears.

A loud snort from Burkhalter as he shifted in bed caused Carter to jump. He'd almost forgotten where he was. He pushed the pup away from him and began to climb into the tunnel. The pup sat down with a soft thud. His dark, almond-shaped eyes bore into Carter with that look to which no man, woman, or child could ever say no.

Carter bit his lip… he shouldn't do it… the Colonel would tan his hide…

The dog whined and Carter dismissed his better judgment. He scooped him up and slid the creature into his flight jacket. It took considerable effort and ability, but he managed to close the opening and descend the ladder without hurting himself or his passenger. As he went to his lab and began to develop the film - in between making sure the pup didn't get into anything dangerous, his conscience nagged at him.

 _What will Colonel Hogan say_?

*TBC*

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Translation: À chacun son goût - means to each his taste... or more simply, have it your way.


	2. Part 2

**Disclaimer: So, I've checked and it appears that I still haven't acquired the rights to 'Hogan's Heroes'... shucky darn! That being the case, all rights belong to their owners.**

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Carter sat on the Colonel's bottom bunk, chewing the inside of his lip. Kinch was fighting with the coffee pot again, while Newkirk was pacing. Klink had been late to oversee roll call and when he'd finally showed up, he had Schultz escort Hogan to his quarters.

"I don't like it," Newkirk said, breaking the silence. He was desperately wanting a cigarette, but due to settling the rest of the bets, didn't have any. He stopped pacing long enough to shoot Carter a look.  
"Are you sure you closed the dresser right?" Carter didn't have a chance to respond before LeBeau leaped to his defense, suggesting that perhaps Newkirk hadn't closed the safe properly. Newkirk snorted, saying, "not ruddy likely."

The door opened and Hogan stepped through, slamming the door closed behind him. "Where is it, Newkirk?" he asked, clearly annoyed.

Kinch and LeBeau looked at Newkirk, who frowned. "Pardon?"

"The Fuehrer's birthday present you took from Burkhalter's room last night." Hogan's mouth was pressed into a thin line; his temper barely in check. Carter paled as realization dawned on him. "He's livid and wants me to hand over the thief or face half rations for the entire camp," Hogan continued glaring at the Brit.

"I can't help you, Guv." Newkirk held his hands out in preparation of being frisked. "You can check me pockets if you like."

Hogan wasn't amused. He shoved his cap further back on his head and said, "don't be cute. You can't put a German Shepherd puppy in your pants pocket."

"That's his present?!" Newkirk scoffed. "What happened to giving your boss a lousy necktie on his birthday?"

"Yes, that's his present and if you took it," Hogan trailed off as he spotted Carter. The young man hadn't said a word, but he was squirming on the bunk, wiping his hands on his pants and avoiding all eye contact. Simply put, Carter looked the picture of guilt.

Newkirk followed the Guv's gaze and almost choked, "Andrew?"

"Where's the puppy?" Hogan asked, calmly. The anger and annoyance at what he thought was Newkirk's willful and reckless action, instantly dissipated. He should've known it was Carter's tender, animal-loving heart.

Carter looked up, "in my lab, but you can't give him back. He's sweet and gentle... Hitler'll just ruin him. Can't we keep him here?"

His eyes met Hogan's anxiously and the Colonel was almost taken aback at how much hope and pleading Andrew could put into those blue eyes of his. Hogan hesitated as he thought of a similar situation almost thirty years ago. Only instead of hopeful blue eyes, they were his own brown ones and they looked up at his father's waiting an eternity for the answer. His real surprise was when he found himself mimicking his father's argument, almost word for word.

"I'm sorry, Carter, you can't keep him," he said, with a small shake of his head. "He'd have to stay in the tunnel all the time. No room to run about and play, no sunshine. He wouldn't be very happy and you wouldn't be happy doing that to him."

Carter looked at his army boots. He knew Hogan was right… Hogan was always right. But it just wasn't fair. Hitler didn't deserve such a fine dog. He would make the dog as mean and nasty as he was, of that Carter was sure. They just need a way to get the dog out of Germany. Carter snapped his fingers.

"We could send the pup to England. Some nice family could take him."

"I'd bloody love to see that radio call," Newkirk chuckled. He sobered at Carter's glare.

Hogan shook his head, but Carter's mind was still pumping out ideas, "Well then, we could find a home for him in Germany or maybe France. The Underground could train him and..."

"And what about Burkhalter?" he asked, knowing just how to handle Carter. "How easy do you think it will be to get him off our backs?"

Carter looked from Hogan to his feet. Reluctantly, he stood and headed for the door, "I'll go get him." A few moments later he returned with the wriggling pup. He set the dog on the table and gently nuzzled his face against the soft fur on its neck. "Isn't he just the best?" he said, scratching behind the pup's ears. "He's really little, but he already knows how to sit. I mean, he knows the German command."

Hogan surveyed the room uncomfortably. Carter had the amazing ability of becoming everyone's kid brother and the emotions ranged from Newkirk's simmering anger to LeBeau's sympathetic disappointment and Kinch's quiet judgment. "We can't keep it," Hogan asserted, feeling more guilty than ever. "I'm sorry, Carter, but we can't - this is a military operation, not a zoo."

"Yes, sir," Carter said, giving the pup a small squeeze before pulling away and hurrying back to the tunnel. LeBeau and Newkirk followed both darting Hogan with a discrete glare. Kinch started to rub the pooch behind each ear. As Hogan pulled his crush cap from his head and fidgeted with the golden eagle on the front.

"How are you going to get him back to Burkhalter without getting us in trouble?" Kinch asked, putting the pup against his chest.

"We'll just have to make it look as if he somehow got out of the Kommandant's quarters last night," Hogan replied. He took one look at the creature and knew exactly why Carter had taken him. He was a sweet puppy and it was a shame to send him back, but what could they do?

 _H~H_

Newkirk and LeBeau had followed Carter down to the tunnel, hoping to talk to him. However, when they reached the entrance to his lab and spotted the curtain, they hesitated. When Carter took over the lab, he'd put up two blankets, each on its own rod, and each blanket had significance. The first one was a yellowish-gray and it meant that Carter was working, but that he wasn't working on anything too dangerous. The second one was a faded, burgundy red. This meant, obviously, that he was working with dangerous chemicals and that he wasn't to be bothered.

The red one was pulled across the opening and they could hear him puttering around. Not wanting to disturb the fledgling scientist, they headed back to the radio room. LeBeau sat down on the cot on one end of the room, while Newkirk sat at Kinch's desk. He rummaged around the items on the table until he found Kinch's stash of cigarettes.

"Poor Andre," LeBeau said. "We really should've talked to him."

Newkirk snorted, "Go on then. Interrupt him when he's fiddling with dynamite or nitro."

LeBeau muttered something in French regarding where a certain Briton could put his sarcasm. Newkirk ignored this and continued with his train of thought. "No, talk is cheap," he said. "What we need is a plan."

LeBeau frowned and shot his friend a curious look. "What kind of plan?"

"A plan that will let Andrew keep his dog."

"You have lost your mind, mon ami. Not only will the Boche disagree, but the Colonel will pickle us both in sauerkraut brine."

"Who's to say he'll find out?"

"Fine," LeBeau said, though from his tone it was clear that he found this statement incredible. "Let's say you manage to conceive and execute a plan without the Colonel's knowing. How do you trick Burkhalter into letting Andre keep the dog?"

The Brit rubbed his chin thoughtfully before breaking into an enormous grin. "I have just the ticket!" He yanked up the headset, sliding them over his ears and connecting the wires.

LeBeau didn't quite like the sound of that and hurried over to his friend's side. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Shh." Newkirk replied, waiting for the ringing to stop. He heard Helga's sweet voice and contorted his own in an attempt to disguise it. "Hello, zis is Herr Wetzel und I'm calling from Berlin. Is General Burkhalter there?"

" _Ein moment, Herr Wetzel."_

"What are you doing!?" LeBeau whispered again, only this time more insistent. He had a bad feeling about whatever the plan was.

Newkirk cupped the mouth piece with his hand and turned to look his friend in the eye. "If we can convince Burkhalter not to give the dog as a present then he won't want it," he said, simply.

"And what makes you think you can convince him?"

Newkirk shot him an 'oh, please' look and turned his back just as Burkhalter came on the line.

" _Good-morning, Herr Wetzel. What can I do for you?"_

"I am zee personal secretary for Fraulein Braun," Newkirk said as LeBeau's eyes went wide.

" _Ah, yes, and how is Fraulein Braun? Well, I hope."_

"She was vell until this morning, when word reached her that you were planning an unusual birthday present for zee Fuhrer."

There was a pause in the line, before a nervous Burkhalter said, " _I'm not sure what she could have heard, but I was planning on gifting the Fuhrer a little_ _dog_ _. Nothing unusual, considering his love of the_ _creatures_ _."_

Newkirk smirked as he brought down the hammer. "Fraulein Braun is planning to give zee Fuhrer a dog herself. I vould hate to zink of what vould happen to zee man who copied her gift."

" _Mhm, I see what you mean. You can reassure Fraulein Braun that there will be no issue."_

"I'm glad. Oh, and General, she vas hoping to gift zee pup to him after zee party, so your discretion vould be appreciated," Newkirk winked at LeBeau, who rolled his eyes. "Ja, ja, Heil Hitler."

Newkirk pulled the plugs and sat back in a self-satisfied way. "As your lot would say, voila."

"If we get caught…"

The ladder came down and a moment later Kinch appeared. He glanced from Newkirk's twinkling eyes to LeBeau's worried frown. "What's going on?" he asked. He came over to the radio and checked to see if it was on.

Newkirk shrugged innocently, "We was just talking about Andrew's dilemma is all."

"And helping yourself to my cigarettes." Kinch pulled the pack away from Newkirk, saying, "I suppose I'll have to find a new hiding spot. Colonel wants everyone up-top. Schultz is going to find the puppy any minute now."

 _H~H_

Carter stood in line beside Kinch, purposely staring at the back of Newkirk's blue side cap. He stiffened his back as Hogan tossed a thoughtful look his way. Klink stood in front of them, tapping his foot impatiently. He'd ordered a full search of the barracks and all the buildings surrounding his quarters. If the dog wasn't found then Burkhalter would blow his top… and that might mean Klink's next assignment would be east of here. He stomped over to Hogan, his swagger stick secured under his arm and shook his finger in Hogan's face.

"You had better tell me where this hund is, Hogan," he half whined, half demanded. "If you did this just to embarrass me…"

Hogan held his hand up, "I had nothing to do with it. How could I? Schultz was on guard all night."

Klink humphed and was about to comment on that statement, when a whistle sounded and Langenscheidt came bounding around the corner. The whistle was still between his lips when he skidded to a stop. "We found him, Kommandant!" he said, panting and readjusting his helmet out of his eyes.

Klink glared at Hogan, saying, "And in which barracks was he found?"

"The guards barracks, herr Kommandant," Langenscheidt dutifully replied. Schultz came up beside him cradling the dog in his arms. The pup was wagging his tail cheerily and licking at the sergeant's face, his nose was the most frequent target.

Hogan grinned, "So you and your men were holding out on the General. I didn't know you all were so fond of dogs."

"Silence!" Klink hollered. "Hogan, I know you and your men areresponsible."

At that moment, Burkhalter hoisted his way through the door of the office and down the steps. He signaled for his car, which pulled forward. Klink hissed an 'I will deal with you later', snatched the pup from Schultz and hurried over to his superior.

"General, I have found the dog."

Burkhalter placed his briefcase in the car and turned back to the Commandant. "How refreshing to see you are not a complete imbecile." He climbed into the car and Klink tried to hand the pup over. "What are you doing, Klink?!" Burkhalter bellowed.

Klink froze, he was stooped over and the pup was left dangling his back paws in the air. "The Fuhrer's present…" he started to say.

"I am not gifting a dog to our beloved Fuhrer," he replied, shaking his head as Klink repeated him.

"Then may I ask, herr General, what you plan on doing with him?"

"You will keep him."

"… but I'm allergic."

"Then find someone else to take him," Burkhalter snapped impatiently and reached for the door. Klink pulled the puppy back just in time to avoid getting caught in the door. His complaint caught in his throat as Burkhalter's car covered him with dust.

Hogan wandered over. He wasn't sure what had prompted Burkhalter's change of heart, but if Newkirk's smirk was any indication, then he'd had a hand in it. "So, what will you name him?" he asked lightly, fondling the pup's ear. Klink gave him a disgusted, miserable look, while still holding the pup away from him.

"You could name him after the Fuhrer," Langenscheidt suggested.

"Course," Newkirk called, still standing in line. "Bubblehead is a fine name."

Klink glared at him before shoving the dog into Schultz's arms. He then started scratching his hands. "I cannot keep it. Other arrangements will be made in due course," he stated firmly.

Carter broke line and hurried over. "We could keep him," he suggested hopefully. "I could take care of him and teach him all sorts of things."

"Absolutely not!" Klink said before erupting into a series of loud, explosive sneezes. He gave a hasty dismissal and stomped back to his quarters, sneezing the entire way.

Schultz laughed as the pup began to crawl up his chest and lick his ear. "My youngest would adore him. He always goes to the farms whenever a new litter is born and begs his mama for one. Gretchen always says no," he sighed and cradled the creature closer.

Hogan smiled broadly, clearly seeing the best outcome for all concerned. "how old is your boy?" he asked.

"Seven," Schultz handed the dog over to Carter as Newkirk, LeBeau, and Kinch also crowded around. He pulled out his wallet and removed a worn photo and handed it to Hogan. Gretchen was seated in the middle. Behind her were two teenage boys, one had a hand placed on his mama's shoulder, while the other held onto her chair. Both had their mama's firm set lips and determined jaw. Two almost identical girls sat at her feet, their hair pulled away from their faces and secured with ribbons. On Gretchen's lap sat a little boy, maybe four, he was the only one in the photo who was smiling. He was the image of Schultz with a round, chubby face and the happiest of smiles.

"He is the one on Gretchen's lap," Schultz said proudly. "He'll be eight in May."

"Eight, hmm," Hogan pondered, handing the picture back to its owner. "You know, I bet he'd be tickled pink to get that pup for his birthday."

Schultz's eyes lit up and he started to nod, then frowned, "but what about my wife?"

"Who's the man of your house, Schultzie?" Newkirk asked, scratching the dog behind his ears "You or Gretchen?"

"Gretchen," he replied seriously, "it was agreed upon before we were married."

Newkirk rolled his eyes and LeBeau ducked his head to hide a smirk. Hogan shook his head, "Klink will be so pleased to have a solution that he's bound to allow a furlough. Now do you really think Gretchen will be unhappy to have you home for a few days, even if it means she has to put up with a dog?"

"I don't know…"

"If push comes to shove, you could always tell her that Klink ordered you to keep him," Hogan suggested. He placed the pup back into Schultz's arms and pointed him toward the Kommandantur. "Go tell the Kommandant the good news."

Carter watched as Schultz waddled across the yard and up the steps. The Heroes headed for the barracks and Kinch laughed, "Five will get you ten, that you'll have to go in and talk Klink into it."

"I dunno," Carter pipped up, "he's pretty eager to get rid of Nitro."

"Nitro?" Hogan asked, though dreading the answer.

Carter nodded, "When he was down in my lab, he kept trying to dig into my nitroglycerin."

"Well, it's a good thing he's going to a nice, _safe_ home."

"Yes, sir… but I sure am gonna miss him."

Baker was just climbing up from the tunnel, clipboard in hand. He handed it to Hogan, who perused it quickly. "Seems like they've finished rebuilding the bridge west of Hammelburg," he said. "They're going to try crossing a convoy of troops headed for France. We're going to need your best bombs, Carter."

"Oh, boy," Carter said, brightening up as he headed for the tunnel. He climbed over the framework of the bunk and onto the ladder. "I know just the stuff. That bridge will be sent straight to the moon. BOOM!"

Hogan leaned closer to Kinch, "that boy worries me sometimes." The rest could only shake their heads, disappearing to accomplish the necessary tasks before the next mission.

The End


End file.
